The Two Towns (The Lakeland Murders) (3 page)

‘It is, yes.’

Hall smiled.

‘Which proves that you should never judge a book by its cover.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘It’s been ages since we had a new start on the team, but Ian knows that I like to ask people to have a look at an open case, just to ease them in. So that wasn’t a particularly impressive guess on his part. But to choose that case, now that was good work. Because it’s not the most recent open file that’s been sitting in the middle of what I call my problems pile, not by a long shot.’

‘So he did guess right then, Andy?’ She tried, unsuccessfully, to keep the eagerness out of her voice.

‘Would you be pleased if he had?’

‘Absolutely. I’d love to review it.’

‘Really? I’d say that this one is about as frustrating as they get, to tell the truth.’

‘No-one said it would be easy though, did they?’

‘Indeed not.’

‘And I remember what you said, about the two different types of offender. The regulars and the first timers. Well this one might be a genuine first-timer, mightn’t it?’

‘The husband you mean? Phil Clark?’

‘Who else?’

Hall let the question hang in the air unanswered, and looked out of the window.

‘I sometimes think that there are two Kendals, two whole worlds maybe, existing side-by-side, and the inhabitants of each are totally unaware of the other. They just kind of glide past each other, like ships in the fog. And the only people who know the truth are us cops. Because in one world people get on with their lives, pretty much obey the rules, and don’t cause or get into any trouble. Not once in their whole lives. Not even when they’re provoked, or desperate. But the people who live in the other place only obey rules that they think they’ll get caught breaking. Otherwise anything goes in that world, absolutely anything. They just don’t give a shit about how their actions impact on the lives of others, including their own families. And us cops are the only people on earth who get to cross over between the two worlds. One we live in, and the other we work in. Or at least usually that’s how it is. Because I agree with you, Jane. I think our Mr. Clark may very well have bought a one-way ticket from one world to the other, and that’s an unusual occurrence. But where’s the evidence?’

‘So you want me to find the evidence?’

‘Not necessarily. There might not be any, remember. What I want you to do is carry out the twelve month follow-up. It’s due next month anyway, isn’t it? I’ll review what you do, and we’ll use this as a way of easing you into the systems and procedures that we follow here. They’re bound to be a bit different from Manchester. We only got electricity in 1970, you know.’

Jane smiled.

‘Fantastic. Can we talk about the case now?’

‘Yes. You start by talking me through it, then ask me any questions you like. After that we’ll agree on the deliverables. I’ll need your report wrapped up by Friday, unless you unearth any new evidence of course. In which case the drinks are on me on Friday night, and that’s not something I say very often.’

‘Well, the facts are clear enough,’ said Jane, without recourse to either her notes or the file. ‘Phil and Ann Clark, both aged 47 and from Burneside, had a static caravan on the shores of Windermere. They were in the habit of using it at weekends, winter and summer, as a base for walking and a bit of sailing. There’s no evidence of marital disharmony, affairs, work or financial problems in either case. They both worked in insurance, and had done for years. No kids. On the night of November 14th last year they stayed in the caravan, and at about seven PM Phil went out for a walk. He’d taken to going for moonlight strolls, apparently. An hour later he returned, and found his wife’s body. Carbon monoxide poisoning. SOCO found that the outlet from the heater, outside the mobile home, had been blocked with a potato. They also found that the outlets of three other caravans, fortunately all unoccupied at the time, had been similarly tampered with. The husband denied all knowledge, and he, along with several other caravan users, mentioned that kids had been seen around the site, causing a low-level nuisance. Five of these children were traced and interviewed, and all denied any involvement. A verdict of unlawful killing was returned at the inquest. Is that about it?’

‘Yes. That’s a good summary. So why do you think that the husband did it? Why wasn’t it kids pissing about, not realising the danger that they were putting Mrs. Clark in?’

‘There had been no previous reports of those vents being blocked.’

‘Maybe it was a new prank. The first and last time they tried it.’

‘There were no sightings of the kids that evening.’

‘Perhaps they just weren’t spotted. Only one other caravan in that part of the site was occupied at the time. Or maybe they did it the night before, and no-one noticed.’

‘SOCO said it was probably that night that the vents were blocked. Judging by the state of the potatoes when they were examined.’

‘Probably isn’t the same as definitely though, is it? Sandy Smith’s reports are always models of precision. And she says that the potatoes were all placed on the outlets at the same time, were all from the same batch in that they were genetically identical, and had probably been placed on the outlets after 6pm on the day of the incident. But not definitely. She didn’t say definitely.’

‘Point taken. So what makes you think it was him then, Andy? A hunch? Surely you can’t believe in that sort of mumbo-jumbo?’

‘Not really, no. But I do think that there’s something approaching evidence that it was the husband.’

‘I must have missed it. Sorry.’

‘Don’t worry. I only said ‘approaching’. And I’m not even sure how explicit the file is on the point. It’s about the other caravans that were tampered with. Which were they again? Plots six, seven and eight, isn’t it?’

Jane looked through the file.

‘Yes, that’s right.’

‘Well, just look at those plots against the site map. They’re outlined in blue, and the Clark’s caravan in red. Have a look at the photos too, the general shots of the site. I think there’s an aerial one in there somewhere. Notice anything?’

Jane looked carefully at the site plan, and the photographs. Then she saw it.

‘I get you. Why didn’t the offender put a spud on the caravan opposite the Clark’s one? Because although the offenders did do sequential numbers they’re not actually closest to each other, are they?’ Hall nodded encouragingly, and Jane thought about the possible significance of her observation. Hall was about to speak again, but stopped when Jane held up her hand. ‘Don’t tell me’ she said quickly. ‘The caravan that didn’t get done is the one that had people in it that night.’

‘Yes, exactly’ said Hall, raising his voice slightly. ‘Now I asked Clark during our interview if he knew that the people in that caravan were there that weekend, on site I mean, and he admitted that he did.’

‘It doesn’t prove anything though, does it? Maybe the spud on that outlet fell off, or was carried away by an animal or a bird.’

‘It didn’t just fall off, I promise you that. One of the SOCOs, we call him Tonto, searched the whole area. No other spuds. And no abandoned bags of spuds in the bins. Nothing.’

‘But the potatoes that were used didn’t match the ones in the Clark’s caravan.’

‘That’s right. They were a different variety. The details are all in there.’

‘So you’re suggesting that Clark didn’t want to kill the other couple, the Sidhus, and that’s why he didn’t put a potato on their outlet pipe. Is that it?’

‘Pretty much, yes. But it’s not evidence, is it? Because if it was kids, maybe they just saw a light on or something in the Sidhu’s caravan, and decided to leave well alone.’

‘All right, so can I ask you a few questions, Andy?’

‘Certainly.’

‘The outside temperature was already low, just below freezing, at around the time of death.’

‘That’s right.’

‘So why was Mrs. Clark only wearing a t-shirt and jeans when she was found? Those caravans are bloody nippy, I can tell you, but her sweater was still in her bag, unpacked.’

‘You’ve got personal experience? Of static caravans, I mean?’

‘Too right. When I was a kid my mum took me to them every summer, all round the coast. They were usually freezing, even in July.’

‘Rain bouncing off the roof, all that?’ said Hall, smiling.

‘Having your ice cream washed away. It’s the taste of childhood disappointment, is that.’

‘Happy days’ said Hall, smiling until he saw that Jane wasn’t. ‘Anyhow, what conclusion do you draw from the fact that Mrs. Clark wasn’t warmly dressed? There were no signs of duress, no drink or drugs in her blood or stomach.’

‘Agreed. No conclusion, just an observation really. But I did have one other question.’

‘Shoot.’

‘What has happened since? To Mr. Clark, I mean?’

‘What indeed? I must admit that I’m curious about that too, Jane. We have no formal interest in him of course, but I did hear that he does have a new lady friend.’

‘A lady friend?’ Jane was smiling.

‘All right, but you know what I mean. A girlfriend, then. And my mole tells me that Clark might even be about to marry again.’

‘Your mole?’

‘Top notch source. Never wrong. My wife’s hairdresser. If it goes on in Kendal, Lorraine knows about it.’

‘Interesting. He’s moved on, then.’

‘There’s no law against it, I suppose’ said Hall evenly, but just slightly as if he thought otherwise.

‘So how do you suggest I proceed?’

‘I thought you might like to meet the happy couple. Let them know, let them both know, that the case is far from closed, and that you are conducting the annual review. Just see what you make of them, really. How does that sound?’

‘I’ll get it sorted today.’

Hall was about to reply when there was a knock at the door followed, a fraction of a second later, by Ray Dixon’s tanned face and suspiciously chestnut brown hair.

‘Sorry to interrupt, boss.’

‘Come in, Ray. Grab a seat. You’ve met Jane?’

‘Oh, aye. I just wanted to run something past you.’

‘You mean you just wanted to cover your arse.’

Dixon smiled. ‘Sally Graham, boss. One of her lads has gone AWOL.’

‘Age?’

‘Fourteen.’

‘Known to us, I expect?’

‘No. That’s the funny thing. The kid’s straight. He really seems to have escaped from the dark side somehow, unlike his scum-bag brothers.’

‘So Sally reported it? That’s unexpectedly public-spirited of her, I must say.’

‘No. One of the teachers at the lad’s school told Kate Straw, from the social, and she flagged the kid as a MISPER. This was on Friday. I’ve got the sheet here, if you want to see it.’ Hall held out his hand, and Jane watched him scan the page quickly, then read it through again.

‘So you followed up?’

‘Aye, yesterday. I phoned Sally, and she told me that the kid was at home, and that he’d be at school today. For definite, like.’

‘But he’s not?’

‘No. Kate’s been on the phone, bending my ear, so I got a couple of uniform to knock Sally up, if you see what I mean.’

Hall smiled. ‘But this lad, Johnny, wasn’t there?’

‘No. Sally’s a bit vague, but isn’t she always? Says she thought the lad was at school.’

‘Is she sticking to her story that he was at home yesterday as well?’

‘Aye, but Nobby Styles gave me a ring, and said he’s sure that she’s lying. You’d think she’d be a bit better at it, after all these years and all the bloody practice she’s had.’

‘So what are you asking, Ray?’

‘Can I prioritise it, Andy? I’ve just got a bad feeling.’

‘Absolutely you can. Take as long as you need. You’re going straight round to Sally’s?’

‘Aye, that’s favourite. I’ll get nowt out of her, but I might find something in the kid’s room.’

‘Good. Tell you what, Jane. Why not head out with Ray here? See how the other half lives.’

Ray Dixon talked all the way to the Graham’s house, on an inter-war estate in a shallow valley on the edge of town. Jane hadn’t noticed it when she’d visited Kendal while she was looking for a house, but she was confident that she’d be getting to know it soon enough.

‘Plenty of our regulars live down here’ confirmed Dixon, as they drove through the estate. ‘When they’re not inside, like.’

‘Are you really concerned about this lad?’

‘Aye. I am. Sally’s a shit mum, and if it had been one of her other lads doing a vanishing act at Jonny’s age I’d probably have breathed a sigh of relief. Hoped he never came back, like. But this one seems different. Like he’s chosen his own path, you know?’

‘Andy certainly seemed worried.’

‘Par for the course, that is. Vulnerable people are his thing, I always say. Why he joined the job in the first place, I reckon. By rights a bloke like that, with his education and that posh voice, he should be a politician, or maybe a vicar. Something like that, anyway. But Andy just wants to try to protect folk who can’t look after themselves from the people who only want to bloody help themselves.’

‘Isn’t that why we all do the job?’

‘Not you too, love? Me, I’m mainly in it for the pension. ‘Index linked’ are the two finest words in the whole bloody English language. You just remember that, lass.’

‘I will.’

‘And just look at Ian. He doesn’t want to help victims, like. He just wants to catch cons, the bad guys, like. That’s why he turns up to work every day. I always say that he’s still fighting a bloody war. He just can’t help himself.’

‘He used to be in the military?’

‘Aye, the Marines or one of them. Some special forces shit, we think.’

‘Christ.’

‘Don’t worry. He’s not one of those coppers who bangs on about his experiences the whole time. Just the opposite in fact. I can never get a word out of him about it all, even when he’s completely pissed-up. But Ian’s the bloke you want to be with when it all kicks off.’

‘Does it? Kick off, I mean?’

Dixon laughed.

‘You wouldn’t think so, to look at the place. But aye, it does. Sally Graham’s brother put a WPC in hospital a while back, as a matter of fact. Depressed fracture of the cheekbone. She was off work for months. Longer than he was inside for, the sick little bastard.’